Shadows
by NanaZola
Summary: Hermione travels back to 1977, where she meets and falls in love with Sirius Black (of course...) - but then things get complicated and a little bit dark. Rated M, because I don't like to feel constrained :)
1. The Chain

Run in the shadows  
Damn your love, damn your lies  
Break the silence  
Damn the dark, damn the light

_The Chain, Fleetwood Mac_

**Prologue:**

**_Hogwarts, June 18th 1978_**.

He stood waiting for her at the edge of The Forbidden Forest; his back to the trees, half hidden in shadows as she made her way towards him. A whispering summers breeze ruffled his dark locks and Hermione paused for a second in the warm nights air to appreciate just how _alive_ Sirius Black was at that particular moment in time – standing strong and tall, his eyes glinting as he watched her approach. An unbidden memory of her first glimpse of him - fifteen years from now, gaunt and broken by the future - the embodiment of Death himself, crept over her. And that memory led, of course, to the fact that eighteen years from now, on this same date, Sirius Black, the brightest star of the night, would die.

She hesitated.

"No need to look so scared," he called, droll as ever; mistaking her reticence for fear.

"I'm not scared" Hermione cast him a familiar withering glance and for a fraction of a moment Sirius felt his heart lift – perhaps all was not lost.

"If you're not afraid then why were you looking over your shoulder the whole way here?" he countered, closing the gap between them in three long strides so that he stood before her, his tall frame towering above hers.

"If you're not afraid," Sirius continued in the same low challenging voice; "Then why are you taking the blame for what happened to Marlene McKinnon – because I _know_ that wasn't you Hermione."

Again, she hesitated.

"I'm not _taking _the blame for what happened to Marlene, Sirius – I'm _accepting_ the blame. I did it. I attacked her," Hermione eventually replied - resolute, though her eyes, troubled, did not meet his.

"I don't believe you," Sirius said stubbornly; " It was Snape, or Mulciber or one of those other wannabe Death Eaters forcing you to accept responsibility. If Dumbledore had caught them using Dark Magic again they would have been expelled.'

Hermione could not deny him, so she pressed her mouth closed in a thin stubborn line and glared, rather than answer him. After a few tense seconds, Sirius let out an aggrieved sigh and simply accepted her silence as confirmation that he was right.

"There's no need to be so afraid of them Hermione. Just tell Dumbledore the truth, and I'll protect you – I'll keep you safe", he promised with the confident assurance of a man much older than he was, a man who did not appreciate what horrors the future held.

A mirthless laugh rocked Hermione and she cast Sirius a glance of pity; "This isn't about protecting myself from school bullies Sirius, this is about protecting myself from _Him_. When we leave here at the end of the month, that's it. There's no more hiding behind Dumbledore, we're on our own…unless we take sides. And The Dark Lord is winning –he will win… in the end ".

"No," Sirius shook his head glaring down at her; "He'll only win if we stop fighting him – and I'll die Hermione if that's what it takes. And I'd die before I let him hurt you – before I let him take you". Grey eyes locked urgently with brown as Sirius tried to convey the sincerity of his words; she was his future, she had to understand.

But Hermione just gave a shrug, a rueful surrender to inevitable defeat, and began to back away from him to make her escape.

"No! I won't let you – I won't let you ruin this -", in desperation Sirius grabbed Hermione's arm to stop her disappearing into the black night, but as he did so the sleeve of her robe fell back, revealing the dark mark burned forever into her flesh.

"What the fuck Hermione?" Sirius's voice was hoarse.

"I told you," Hermione raised her head defiantly to look into his eyes for what she knew would be the last time; "It's time to choose sides Sirius".

With a determined jut of her chin, she turned her back on him and began to walk away, leaving a shaken Sirius standing where she had found him - in shadows.

_**Hogwarts, 31st August 1998.**_

"Ah Miss. Granger, I have been anticipating this meeting for almost twenty years."

The startlingly blue eyes of Albus Dumbldore smiled sympathetically out of his portrait at the tear stained face of Hermione Jean Granger, who stood defeatedly before him, in the room which in his lifetime had been his office.

"But Professor I don't understand?" Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion, her already aching head throbbing even harder. "How could you have been anticipating this? I've been doing a lot of reading and none of the books have referenced The Cruciatus Curse having this kind of effect...?" She trailed off, as the portrait of her former headmaster cleared his throat politely to silence her.

"No, no, my dear girl, I fear you have misheard me. I have been anticipating this meeting; not because I knew that the curse would have this unfortunate effect on you,but rather because you've told me all this before – the first time we met in 1977".

For a moment Hermione's vision blurred, as she tried to comprehend what Professor Dumbledore was saying. Knees trembling, she looked around her for a seat, and finding one sat down heavily, taking a few calming deep breaths before turning once more to look at the portrait, bewildered. "I'm sorry Professor, I don't understand what you mean by the 'first time' we met?"

"I mean precisely what I said", Albus Dumbledore was calm, but he leaned forward in his portrait emanating a sense of urgency and importance. "The first time we met Miss Granger was twenty one years ago to the day. Voldemort's reign was nearing it's peak, and we were suffering heavy casualties. I will be honest – I feared at the time that we would be defeated, that The Dark would win. To help us I needed one thing – and desired another. When you arrived in my office, you provided me with both".

The silver instruments which still decorated the former desk of Albus Dumbledore gleamed and whirred as Hermione Granger sat listening, still heavily confused, to the story of how her future lay in the shadows of the past.

_**Hogwarts, 21st September 1993.**_

"He's at 's at Hogwarts. He's at Hogwarts"

These three words had haunted Sirius Black for months; he repeated them even in his dreams. And he chanted them to himself constantly now – as he lay hidden in his Animagus form, on the outskirts of The Forbidden Forest, where the trees thinned before receding entirely, to give way to the grounds of Hogwarts. That is until another word startled him from his reverie:

"Crookshanks!"

Hermione's voice called out; an echo from the past he recognised instantly – and despite his apprehension, Sirius found himself rising, and padding softly on four paws towards the source of it. He paused behind the cover of a towering beech tree, and peered out cautiously to catch a glimpse of her.

"There you are Crookshanks, you have to stop running away like that." A bushy haired young witch was scolding a bandy-legged ginger cat with the same exasperated yet forgiving tone that she had once used on him. Sirius felt his heart give a painful tug as he watched this young version of Hermione scoop the offending cat up into her arms, then turn and walk away back towards the castle.

Dumbledore had said that they would meet again. He had warned Sirius about this before, when he had still thought Sirius loyal to the order. He had explained that she could not be told – just as she had been unable to warn him of the that years he would spend in Azkaban with just the memories of what he had once had, and all that he had lost.

The young witch Hermione had long disappeared, but Sirius sat for hours watching the ground where she had stood, remembering all that they had once shared, as night fell quickly. The spectre of Voldemort cast a long shadow over his memories, and Sirius knew that it would stretch on into the future, unless he was prepared to give his life to fight him – just as Hermione had been.

_Note: If I've made mistakes with dates, please let me know – I'm still trying to remember to write 2013 six months later, so I won't be offended. Also constructive criticism is welcome, time travel can get a bit complicated and if I'm not explaining everything properly then just shout!_

"


	2. A Blackened Night

_**Hogsmede Train Station, 1st September 1977.**_

Sirius alighted the Hogwarts Express with an easy grace. He wore his school robes with a careless elegance that other pupils could never emanate, try though they might – and they did. His school bag was slung nonchalantly over one broad shoulder and he raked a hand through his dark hair, leaving it thoughtlessly but charmingly dishevelled. A Ravenclaw Fifth Year eyed him appreciatively, but her longing glance went unnoticed – Sirius Black had other things on his mind, namely finding his friends who had been separated from him by the heaving throng of bodies that had descended en masse from the train onto the platform.

Hogsmede Train Station bustled with the noise and chatter of the hundreds of excited students who were returning to Hogwarts for another year. The cry of "Firs' years this a way" boomed out over their heads, and Sirius was caught, helpless, in a current of tiny eleven year olds who surged together as though one huge creature towards the looming figure of Hagrid the Gamekeeper.

"Bloody First Years", Sirius grumbled good naturedly to the half giant as he managed to extricate himself from their chattering midst.

"Ah hush up you," Hagrid replied cheerfully, "It wasn't so long ago that you were 'un too, I remember you well, Sirius Black, barely came up to me knee".

A grin flashed across Sirius's face, and he was about to reply that his head still barely grazed the gamekeepers elbow, when Hagrid continued.

"You'd best stop yer dawdlin' lad, or the carriages'll be gone without yer". Hargrid nodded his head towards the thinning group of students that was hurrying towards the station exit and the horse-less carriages which awaited beyond.

With a smile of thanks, Sirius hurried away and began scanning the carriages for his group of friends so intently that at first he failed to notice the skeleton like horses which were tethered to them, white eyes devoid of pupils staring blankly ahead.

"Shit!", Sirius gave a startled jump when he noticed them, the creatures eerie features sending an ominous shiver down his spine. "What in the name of Merlin are _they_?" he questioned a straggling third year boy beside him. "What are what?" Atticus LaFromage, a nervous Hufflepuff replied, glancing worriedly from Sirius to the empty space where he was pointing.

"Those horse thingys pulling the carriage...?" Sirius trailed off nervously, realising that they young boy could not see them.

"Mate there's no horses there, there never is any horses there", the boy muttered, and hearing his friends calling for him gave Sirius a worried look of incredulity before gratefully scurrying away. Sirius stared forlornly after him, an unwanted wave of fear rising within him, was he losing his mind?

"They're thestrals".

The voice was so soft in his ear that at first he thought he had not heard it at all, but turning round Sirius caught sight of the witch who had spoken so softly and she smiled, shyly at him and repeated herself.

"They're thestrals", she nodded towards the horses; "They're only visible to people who have witnessed death, perhaps that's why you've never noticed them before?"

Her calm tones had an instant soothing affect on Sirius's fear; he smacked a theatrical hand to his forehead, groaning loudly at his own stupidity and tossed her a careless grin.

"Of course – Thestrals! My Uncle Aphard kicked the proverbial bucket during the summer, that must be why I'm only seeing them properly now," he grinned again at her, though faltered when he noted her wince slightly at his choice of phrase.

"I'm very sorry for your loss" the witch ventured, her brown eyes avoiding his now curious stare. Who was she? She looked like a seventh year but Sirius had never seen her before. He opened his mouth to ask her what her name was, but she spoke before he got the chance.

"Is that your friend over there?" her voice sounded amused as she observed James Potter standing upright in a carriage, waving so vigorously to attract Sirius's attention that he was in danger of knocking the whole carriage over.

"Er, yeah it is", Sirius hoisted his backback from one shoulder to the other, and turned away to leave. "Oh", he called back to her as he made his way to the carriage where his friends were waiting impatiently. "I'm Sirius, Sirius Black".

The girl started, her head turned, and her now troubled eyes met his, but instead of replying with her own name she merely gave an imperceptible nod of her head and continued her soft tread towards her own waiting carriage.

Sirius stared after her for a moment, wondering whether he should call her out for being so rude – but he caught sight of the Thestrals once more, remembered the look of pain that had flashed through her eyes and decided that maybe he should give his fellow witness to Death the benefit of the doubt.

**Xxx**

"Bagshot, Hermione" Professor McGonogal's clipped voice called and every head in The Great Hall turned to watch the young woman as she made her way slowly across the hall, their curious whispers echoing off the stars of the enchanted ceiling.

"Who is she?" Sirius perked up from the unending boredom of The Sorting to watch the mysterious girl from the train station walk towards the sorting hat, a look of resignation on her face.

"That's Hermione Bagshot", James Potter offered, a grin on his face at the obviousness of his statement.

"I know _that_," Sirius said, amused despite himself; "But why's she only starting now".

James glanced left and right to make sure that the other occupants of The Gryffindor table were not listening, then gestured to Sirius, and Remus and Peter who sat beside them to lean in so they could hear his whispered tale.

"She's the niece of Bathilda Bagshot, you know that old historian who lives near us in Godric's Hollow," he whispered, pushing his glasses up his nose and dropping his voice even further. "There's a bad streak in that family though, they're all related to Grindlewald -" Peter Pettigrew gave a startled squeak at the Dark Wizard's name, and cast a fearful look the young witch, who now sat dazedly with the sorting hat upon her curly head. James gave him an annoyed look and motioned for him to be silent, before continuing; "Well 'Her-my-own-ee', is the daughter of Rexus, Bathilda's brother, who only went and got himself killed when he tried to break into Nuremengard over the summer. She told my mum over tea last night", he said with a conspiratorial wink to his friends. "Said she'd no idea that Rexus had even had a niece, but when she found out she told Dumbledore and he offered to take her into Hogwarts. Said it was to make sure she got a good head start in life, but I reckon he wants to keep an eye on her, coming from a family like that..."

"Ten galleons says she's sorted into Slytherin" Peter whispered – barely, as other students had begun to chatter impatiently while the Sorting Hat took an inordinate amount of time making its decision on where to place the mysterious Hermione Bagshot.

"Just because she comes from a bad family doesn't necessarily mean she's bad herself" Sirius replied archly, the voice of experience. But he had barely finished speaking when the hat opened it's tear of a mouth and roared "Slytherin" to the raucous approval of table furthest away from their own.

Hermione Bagshot took the hat from her head, and with an air of resigned detachment made her way over to the sea of smiling Slytherin faces. Sirius watched her, with a sinking feeling that took him a moment to recognise as disappointment. There was something about the girl that intrigued him – when she had glanced at him with her brown eyes, he had been sure that there was a spark of recognition, as though she knew his very soul. Sirius gave himself a little shake of annoyance; Hermione was probably no different to any of the other girls in Hogwarts, and if she had been sorted into Slytherin then she probably wasn't any different to the family that had disowned him.

But still, as she took a seat between the obnoxious Slytherin seventh years Avery and Nott, Sirius kept his silver eyes trained on her, watching her every movement. His gaze so focused on Hermione that he failed to notice the speculative, gleaming eyes of Severus Snape - which were observing her with an intensity that far outweighed his own.

_**Albus Dumbledore's Office, 31st August 1977.**_

The moment that Hermione had taken the silver instrument in her hands, the walls of Dumbledore's office began spinning as though Father Time himself had pressed a rewind button. People walked in and out, and sometimes through her as the windows gave a view of the rapidly changing seasons in the grounds beyond. Hermione clutched the silver object to her, afraid of breaking the Flesh Memory that Dumbledore had told her it was enchanted with, and the world became a nauseating blur as colours ran into each other and a high pitched ringing pierced her ears. After what seemed like a lifetime, the spinning stopped abruptly and Hermione found herself standing with trembling knees before a rather bemused and very alive Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello Professor," Hermione said, after a few deep steadying breaths. "You said that when I arrived I was to show you this", she raised the silver object, whose function she still did not know, so that he could see it properly. "And then you said that I was to ask you 'What came first, the dragon or the egg?'".

Dumbledore stared from her to the object repeatedly for a moment, then gave a delighted chuckle and rose to his feet."Please Miss -?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger".

"Please Miss Granger, take a seat", Dumbledore waved his wand so that a chair skittered across the room to her, and Hermione sat down gratefully..

"May I?" Dumbledore asked, indicating to the silver object with his head, which Hermione passed to him without comment.

"Remarkable," he breathed, and began poking and prodding the object with his wand. It began omitting puffs of smoke, but Hermione paid no attention – her focus fixed on the man before her. The last time she had seen Albus Dumbledore, was when a horrified school had gathered around his broken body as he lay dead on the ground beneath the Astronomy Tower. Now, twenty years in the past, he was very much so alive, his blue eyes flashing as they always had, his very being emitting a sense of purposefulness.

"Truly remarkable," Dumbledore said again with a satisfied sigh, as he refocused his attention from the instrument to Hermione. "I have been trying for years to perfect the design for this, but here it has arrived in my office, perfectly formed. I don't suppose...?"

Hermione gave a smile, she had been told to expect this question; "You said that you never worked out how it came to be – it simply is. And now that I have brought it back to you, it is no more..." She trailed off in embarrassment at the vagueness of her reply, but Dumbledore gave another delighted chuckle.

"Wonderful, wonderful," he clapped his hands softly and beamed at her from behind his half moon spectacles. "Now Miss Granger – I assume that I had a purpose in sending you here?"

Hermione cleared her throat, and began a halting explanation of why she had come to arrive in his office; omitting certain facts she wanted to keep to herself.

"We were talking about a certain personal...issue, I have been having. I was asking you for advice on how I should proceed, and you told me that the arrival of this...issue signalled to you that it was time for me to return to the past. You said that I had been here before, and had done _something _that had allowed the chain of events which led to the death of Voldemort to occur."

Dumbledore gave a sharp intake of breath, and watched her closely "You mean Riddle has been defeated?"

Hermione nodded, "I am to tell you to not lose faith in The Light. That you now have one thing you have always desired – and another thing that you desperately need."

Once more Dumbldore affixed his attention to the silver instrument which now sat, gleaming on his desk – he gave it a tap with his wand a large puff of smoke burst forth. The smoke split into two shapes, a lion and a snake, and Hermione watched transfixed as the snake opened its mouth to swallow the lion whole, before bursting entirely and fading away".

"Of course", Dumbledore breathed and glanced at her anxiously. "What else did I tell you?".

Hermione shrugged, "That was pretty much it Professor, you said that we should let events take their natural course – that everything has already happened, and it will happen again, and Voldemort will be defeated because of it. You said that I would know – at the end -what to do". Dumbledore nodded, seeming to understand, though the tenses and circles of time were confusing Hermione, and her head once more began to ache.

They talked for many hours, Hermione careful to avoid mentioning anything which might conflict future events, and once Dumbledore was satisfied that Hermione understood the gravity of the rules which governed time travel, and that she was fully versed in the new identity he would shape for her, he sent an owl to Tom in The Hog's Head, requesting a room for her for the night.

"You will meet the other students at the train station, and travel with them to be sorted", Dumbledore finished heavily.

Hermione gave a squeak of alarm at the mention of being sorted, again "But I was in Gryffindor Professor," she protested, "Surely I can just go back there again?" The thought of having to navigate another house as well as another era seemed too much to handle.

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh, "That was before Miss. Granger".

The image of the snake swallowing the lion whole before it exploded into nothingness, danced before Hermione's eyes, and her head – once more, was clouded with pain.

**_Girl's Dormitories, Slytherin House, 1st September 1977._**

"I'm Sirius. Sirius Black"

His words from earlier taunted Hermione, how stupid had she been to not recognise the silver eyes of her best friend's Godfather? True by the time she had met him in 1994, Sirius Black was a defeated, broken shell of a man, but as she had watched him during The Feast she had noticed some traits he had managed to salvage from the horrors of Azkaban. His bark of laughter, and the way he threw his head back when he did laugh – these things Hermione recognised as she surreptitiously observed him from her place at the Slytherin table.

And Professor Lupin had been there beside him, Peter Pettigrew to his left and across from him had sat James Potter – who _did_ look remarkably similar to Harry. Lilly Evans, her flash of red hair making her stand out like a Weasley, had been easily spotted, a few seats away from the group of Mauraders. She was watched by Professor Snape – Hermione had noticed his gaze fall longingly on her once or twice, before he seemed to scold himself internally and drag his eyes away.

Ghosts, she was surrounded by ghosts.

Her face wet with tears, Hermione once again ran over the faces of the dead she had seen in The Great Hall, as she lay in her unfamiliar bed, in the even more unfamiliar Slytherin House. Though as her vision burred Hermione had to concede that here in 1977, she was little more than a ghost herself.

**Note: Did the meeting with Dumbledore make sense? I did find I had to re-write it five times, the whole "how time travel came about" part of time travel stories can, I think be their undoing, so I hope it's passable. Any comments welcome, if I'm not going in the right direction, just holler. Thanks for my two lovely reviews!I hope chapter two lived up to any expectations x**


	3. Philby

_**Hogwarts, 8th September 1977.**_

Severus Snape could well envision the wheels and cogs of Horace Slughorn's brain whirring frantically, as he observed him talking to Hermione Bagshot during the first potions lesson of the year.

The orotund potion's master, and head of Slytherin House was lingering by the table where Hermione sat, alphabetically placed beside 'Black, Sirius'. From what Snape could hear (and he was listening most avidly), Slughorn was none to subtly trying to evaluate whether Ms. Bagshot showed enough potential to be of future benefit to him.

"Are you familiar with the theory around antidotes Miss Bagshot?" Professor Slughorn asked, leaning over the desk to peer into her cauldron. which bubbled upon it.

"Oh yes," Hermione replied airily, in a soft voice that Snape had to strain to hear across the dungeon. She rattled off Galpolott's Third Law; "...Which simply put, just means that the potionmaker must find that single ingredient which, when added to the blended antidotes, transforms them into a combined whole, which will counteract the entire blended poison."

Slughorn's eyebrows rose, impressed. "Very good Miss Bagshot. Now tell me how is your aunt? I know Bathilda well, of course; her name still holds a lot of weight in certain academic circles".

Snape rolled his eyes, as he crushed his thalictrum roots viscously with his knife – while brains were sometimes enough to win Slughorn's favouritism, being well connected would almost certainly guarantee it.

"She is well Professor," again Hermione's voice was so low that Severus had to concentrate to hear it. "She wrote to me this morning to ask me to visit with her for Christmas, I'll let her know that you were asking for her when I reply."

"Good, good", Slughorn beamed, and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his balding head gleaming under the light of the candles which lit the gloomy dungeon. "Well Miss Bagshot, I'll let you carry on with your antidote, and pop back later to see how you've got on". He cast a baleful glance into Sirius Black's cauldron, which bubbled and smoked menacingly beside Hermione's before moving on without comment to the next desk.

Snape let out a sigh, he knew that Horace Slughorn was reserving judgement on Hermione until he saw the finished product of her antidote, but Snape already knew that it would be perfect. He had spent the last few days observing Hermione in all the classes that they shared; Transfiguration, DADA, Charms, Alchemy – she had been quietly brilliant in each of them. Severus Snape had quickly come to the conclusion that Hermione Granger was a singularly gifted witch – but where did her loyalties lie? True her father had been an infamous (albeit foolhardy) practitioner of the Dark Arts, but was his daughter that way inclined? As Severus watched Hermione across the room, chatting benignly to the wretched Sirius Black, he decided that unlike Slughorn he would bide his time – he had all year to make a judgement on Hermione.

**Xxx**

The first week of Sirius Black's seventh and final year at Hogwart's had brought with it a lot of changes; and while Sirius, who lived in a perpetual state of movement, usually embraced anything new – he wasn't entirely sure he liked the changes that the new school term had brought.

The mentality among his fellow seventh year students had matured with their impending N.E.W.T examinations, and there seemed to be a lot less laughter and frivolity to be found. Even James, steadfastly mischievous James, had developed a sensible head to go with his Head-Boy badge, and the simmering tension that had always existed between him and Lilly Evans had notably changed. There was still tension, but it was apparent to all that it was mutual attraction which now sizzled the air between them – as Remus had pointed out, this was evidenced by the sheer drop in volume of objects flung at James by Lily. Sirius's stomach gave a small lurch when he thought of the pair together – he _was_ delighted for his friend, but at the same time he was slightly worried for himself; James was his brother, his only family, what would happen to Sirius when James decided to leave and start a family of his own?

Still pondering this question, Sirius entered the Potion's Classroom on Thursday, to find that Professor Slughorn had another unwelcome change to spring upon him.

"You'll be seated in alphabetical order this year" he called jovially from the top of the classroom. "This is your N.E.W.T year – and you won't get an Outstanding if you spend this term piggybacking off the same partner you've been seated beside for the past six years."

The class gave a collective groan, and began searching for the seats that Slughorn had assigned them. Sirius was to be seated at the front of the classroom, and he found himself, not for the first time in his life, cursing The Black name that had brought him here. He turned around to roll his eyes at James, who was seated a few rows back beside 'Pettigrew, Peter' – much to the other boys delight; they had always sat together in potions...in the back row, where they had been less likely to be spotted dozing off.

"Tough luck", James mouthed to him, with a grin – then sure that Peter wasn't watching, he made a face behind the smaller boys back. Sirius laughed; being paired with the hopeless at potions Pettigrew wasn't quite as bad as sitting in the front row, but it was close.

"I think this is my seat," the scent of freshly cut grass, new parchment and spearmint assailed Sirius's senses, as Hermione Bagshot slipped into the chair beside his.

"I think it most definitely is", Sirius replied, tapping the small piece of parchment on the desk which bore her name in Slughorn's heavy calligraphy, on it.

She smiled at him, white, even teeth flashing – before turning her attention to the potions professor who was now speaking. Sirius watched her from the corner of his eye, as he feigned interest in Slughorn's detailed description of the uses of thalictrum in antidote preparation. Hermione Bagshot still remained a mystery to him, and most of the school at large (who seemed unaware of her link to Rexus and The Dark Arts). Sirius had observed her in the classes they had shared, and while it soon became apparent to anyone within a foot of her that she was incredibly talented and clever, it was less easy to ascertain the personality of the girl behind the brains; she kept herself to herself as though she wasn't bothered getting to know any of her fellow pupils.

The sound of scraping chairs jolted Sirius from his reverie, as his classmates began to gather the ingredients they would need for the antidote to Draught of The Living Dead. Sirius half-heartedly began his own preparation while thinking of ways that he could engage Hermione, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze concentrating on her own work, in conversation - when Professor Slughorn pounced.

Sirius tried not to laugh as he listened to the Potion's Master's none too subtle interrogation – he had done the same thing to Sirius in his first year, but quickly lost interest when he realised that while Sirius heralded from an influential family, he was very much its Black Sheep and a poor potions student to boot.

"I think you passed the Slughorn Inquisition", he muttered dryly to Hermione, as Slughorn made his way to the next table after a slightly pained look into Sirius's cauldron.

"I'm not that sure I want to pass," came her conspiratorial reply, and she continued in an exasperated, confiding voice, "Honestly he's so obvious, he may as well have handed me a list of attributes and influential associations to check off, and be done with it".

Sirius gave a bark of laughter, and eyed her more appreciatively – the pompous potions master was his least favourite teacher. "Well then tread carefully, and downplay any underlying talents you might have if you don't want him to 'collect' you for his Slug Club".

The knife in Hermione's hand slipped slightly at the mention of the Slug Club – and to Sirius's surprise she was now eyeing the potions master warily, almost with fear.

"Merlin's beard Hermione", he muttered, "No need to look so scared, it's only a stupid dinner party every now and then – and you don't have to go if you really don't want to".

She smiled at him to allay his concern, but the easy chat between them ceased and she did not utter a single word for the rest of the lesson, fleeing without a backward glance to the bewildered Sirius once they had been dismissed. Sirius watched her leave, concerned; there was definitely something up with Hermione Bagshot; she wasn't deliberately trying to be mysterious like so many other Slytherins – she was afraid. But of what? Sirius pondered, And why did he care so much anyway?

**Xxx**

"...if you don't want him to collect you for his Slug Club".

Sirius had been teasing her, in a reassuringly familiar way, but his words startled Hermione so much that her hand slipped, and the roots she had been meticulously chopping were ruined.

"_Go about your business normally, and see who tries to recruit or collect you, for that is surely the direction you must take"_.

The words of Albus Dumbledore echoed in her mind, and Hermione felt slightly panicked that it had started already. She had spent the past week with her head down, adjusting to the new era she found herself in and to the exhaustion that came with the shock of seeing so many people she knew to be dead, walking the halls of Hogwarts, oblivious to the tragedy that would blight their futures. She had gone out of her way to _avoid_ being 'recruited' by anyone until she felt ready, by holding herself aloof from the student body. But here she was, her first week in 1977 at an end, and Professor Slughorn had set his sights on having her join the influential Slug Club, which counted many future Death Eaters amongst its ranks.

The image of the snake, swallowing the lion before bursting into nothingness, once more filled her mind; Professor Slughorn dismissed the class and she fled to be alone with her thoughts and away from the care-free eyes of Sirius which haunted her. For she knew that she could not help him, she couldn't change the future – and her future, such as it was, was already aligned with The Dark. Dumbledore had not said it outright, but she knew that this time around, she would be working for Voldemort rather than against him.


End file.
